


taking care

by emyn ab morlan (gwenynnefydd)



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: (although I didn't make that super obvious here), COVID-19, Covid-19 Related Fanwork, Curtain Fic, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff, Genital-Themed Pasta, Humour, Intersex Kelas Parmak, Other, Plague, Slice of Life, Tora Ziyal Lives, Tora Ziyal has ADHD, lockdown - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:34:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23593141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwenynnefydd/pseuds/emyn%20ab%20morlan
Summary: A domestic slice of life fic during a plague related lockdown.
Relationships: Arati Mhevet/Tora Ziyal, Elim Garak/Kelas Parmak
Comments: 10
Kudos: 16





	taking care

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Runar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Runar/gifts).



The sound of the clicking of toe-claws on the stone floor woke Elim from his reverie. He was sat cross-legged on the floor, with a  _ sȳng-mȳjat, _ or foot washing bowl, cradled in his lap and a nail file in one hand. Kelas sat in the chair in front of him, feet in the bowl, but body limp and arms slack - they were fast asleep, deducing from the whirring little snores they were letting out. Elim looked around for the source of the noise, and saw that it was only Ziyal, crossing from the art studio to her bedroom. She waved, and Elim noticed her brown wavy hair was braided and stuffed with accumulated pencils and paint brushes - a bad habit she had picked up from living with Kelas... 

He shook his head and raised a hand in greeting, before she vanished off into the other room. Even in her dishevelled state, Elim could not help but feel happy to see her out and about. The plague currently ravaging Cardassia had hit her only recently, and not even her general artistic messiness could distract from the very real relief that she was finally walking around again. 

“This lockdown is intolerable.” Ziyal moaned, as she re-entered the living room, having changed out of her painting clothes into something a little more tidy. “What are you doing?”

Elim didn’t even look up from where he was studiously filing down Kelas’ toe-claws _.  _ “I’m tidying Kelas’  _ tslūcz.  _ The ward floors have blunted them.”

“Ah.” Ziyal carefully leant on the back of the chair and eyed her adoptive _amenn_. Carefully, she brushed the loose hair from their face, and tucked one of their frontal white braids back behind their ear. 

“They look tired.” she said, and Elim hummed in agreement. The ongoing plague had exhausted Kelas - while their speciality was not virology, the maternity department at the hospital had so many staff on leave due to it that Kelas was having to pull extra shifts. Nursing Ziyal through her sickness had been hard on him - if  _ Kelas  _ got sick...

“How are you feeling?” Elim asked, distracting him from his morbid thoughts. Ziyal sighed.

“Bored. The latest painting isn’t going like I’d planned, so I’m taking a break.” She flopped down on the settee with a huff. “I keep meaning to find things to do, but you know me. Nothing holds my attention for long except painting.”

Elim hummed. “You could do those beauty regimes that you cut out of the magazine and then forget about them entirely.”

Ziyal laughed. “They’re no fun on my own. Unless you’re volunteering to join in.”

“I might be.” Elim smiled, and poured some of the water over Kelas’ feet. “And there are some other things you can do. When did you last do your  _ tslūcz? _ ”

Ziyal frowned, and tucked her feet up under her skirts to hide them from view. “Recently.”

“Recently as in before or after I did them during your sickness?”

“ _ Recently. _ ” Ziyal instisted. “My  _ tslūcz _ aren’t achy yet.”

“I could hear them clacking on the floor when you came in here.”

“They  _ always  _ do that.”

Their burgeoning bicker was interrupted by the click of the lock at the front door. They both turned to see Arati walk in, arms full of bags of produce. Ever since the plague had forced the announcement of a lockdown, Arati had been picking up groceries for them after work. After Ziyal’s illness, both he and Ziyal had been told in no uncertain terms by Arati that they were not to leave the house until the plague had passed. She’d also tried to say the same to Kelas, but Kelas didn’t listen to her any more than they listened to anyone, and as Kelas was a doctor, Arati didn’t really have the standing to do anything other than grumble at them for putting themself at risk.

_ “ _ Evening,” she said, carefully shuffling her load of groceries through the door frame. “What are we arguing about now?”

“Nothing of importance.” Elim smiled up at her. “I see you brought food. Did you remember that Kelas asked for pasta?”

“I did.” she replied, and smiled in response. “The shelves were stripped bare, but I found some.”

"Arati, Elim's on me about my  _ tslūcz."  _ Ziyal grumped, throwing an over-exaggerated pout in her direction. Arati pressed a kiss to her wife's cheek, and smiled at her. 

"That's probably because you haven't let me trim them for so long." she replied. "Come and help me in the kitchen, he can't hound you in there."

Ziyal gave a squawk of protest, and followed her wife into the kitchen, bickering all the while. Elim shook his head, and returned to the simple peace of whetting and filing Kelas’  _ tslūcz.  _ He perhaps would’ve exchanged a look with Kelas, silently commiserating and affectionate about their two charges, but Kelas was fast asleep. It wasn’t like Kelas was a spritely young thing - they were well past retirement age, but a love for their job, an affection towards their patients and pure stubbornness meant they still worked as a doctor. Elim knew full well that he would never be able to convince them to take it slow at work, not with the current plague, but Elim enjoyed doing what he could to make it easier, be it running a bath for them, fetching medication and painkillers, or simply tidying their  _ tslūcz. _

A sudden, stifled laugh from the kitchen drew his attention away from his internal musings. He listened intently, and then the laugh came again, stifled but accompanied by whispered, gleeful conversation. Elim carefully took Kelas’ feet out of the  _ sȳng _ - _ mȳjat  _ and dried them on a nearby towel, before carrying the bowl of dirty water into the kitchen to see what was going on. Arati and Ziyal were giggling over something in Arati’s hand, but both straightened up upon Elim’s arrival, both wearing identical expressions of sheepishness. Elim noticed Arati putting whatever it was behind her back.

“Hi, Elim.” Ziyal said, barely able to keep a straight face, and Elim raised an eye-ridge as he poured out the dirty water into the sink.

“What’s got you all worked up?” Elim asked, as he set the bowl to the side. Both women sniggered, and Arati reluctantly removed the package from behind her and handed it over. Elim looked down, eyes focusing on the tiny writing, before it finally clicked and he realised exactly  _ what  _ he was looking at.

“Oh,  _ my,”  _ he said, unable to repress a silly little grin, and both Arati and Ziyal fell about laughing. The  _ what  _ in question was a bag of pasta, but not ordinary pasta - pasta in the shape of Cardassian genitals, varying from the  _ chlūäch  _ opening, the smaller  _ mëūë _ length, and the tall proud  _ phmūäð _ . Elim couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him, and the broad grin that spread across his features, and he rubbed his palm across his face. These daughters of his…

“What’s going on?” came a voice, and Kelas wandered in, clearly just having awoken from their impromptu nap. Elim handed him the pasta, chuckling all the while, and Kelas just stared sleepily at it for a few moments, before comprehending what exactly was in their hands. They shook their head, and groaned:

“You are all  _ children. _ ”

That just made Arati and Ziyal shriek with laughter, and Elim pulled Kelas closer to cuddle them under one arm. Kelas allowed it, and gave him an unmistakeably fond but exasperated look.

“Well, at least you can make your special  _ neðða  _ tetrazzini now, huh?” Elim said, and Kelas laughed.

“ _ Neðða  _ tetrazzini with  _ chlūäch  _ pasta?” they replied, and their eyes sparkled with mirth. “That’s a new one.”

“I  _ did  _ try and get you ordinary pasta.” Arati said, once she and Ziyal had calmed down. “But that was all that was left. Looks like everyone stocked up on the ravioli and  _ matkott. _ ”

“My ancestors will be rolling in their graves when I make this.” Kelas smiled. “But then again I’ve transgressed worse social mores than cooking  _ genital _ pasta.”

“It’ll be fun!” Ziyal laughed, bright and cheery. “Arati and I’ll get everything ready for you, and get the groceries unpacked. And then-”

“And then Kelas will cook, and you will sit down and file down your  _ tslūcz. _ ” Elim interrupted, and the resulting groan filled the kitchen with laughter again.


End file.
